


Apple Trees In The Forest

by tielan



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-02-18
Packaged: 2018-01-12 23:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1203904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tielan/pseuds/tielan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His feet keep moving, not stopping until he has a clear view of the couple in the shower, too deep in the act to notice anything as mundane as an audience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apple Trees In The Forest

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is kind of a sequel to [Browsing Among The Lilies](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1139806) which was originally intended as the first of a "Five Times Raleigh Went Down On Mako" but never got past the first one.
> 
> Now, if only I had 'voyeurism' as a square in my Kink Bingo box, dammit!
> 
> I've tagged the pairings all over the shop - although I've just realised I didn't tag it Mako/Herc ... I really hate trying to label fics like these, neither quite fish nor barnyard fowl. Does one tag as warning or invitation?
> 
> The title is from Song of Songs.

Running from your ghosts never works. Herc knows this; his body doesn’t.

So he jogs through the Shatterdome in the too-early morning, driving his body forward with every step, trying not to think about the holes in his heart. _Angela. Scott. Stacker. Chuck._

He jogs alone, because Max is smarter than his master, and needs his beauty sleep more.

He jogs through the corridors, and out along the waterfront. He jogs through the Jaeger bays and through Scramble Alley. He jogs back through the doors beneath the silent and still war clock, and down towards the communal showers near the Drivesuit ready-rooms.

He pushes open the door and grabs a towel off the clean pile. The hissing spray of water echoes through the tiled space, and the air is thick with steam.Someone’s already using the showers – probably one of the duty crew cleaning up after a night cataloguing and cleaning up.

Herc strips in the change rooms leaving his gear where it falls, tosses a towel over his shoulder, and heads for the nearest set of shower cubicles.

It’s not until he’s inside the room that the moan and its meaning registers in his sleep-deprived, sense-deprived brain.

Even then his feet keep moving, not stopping until he has a clear view of the couple in the shower, too deep in the act to notice anything as mundane as an audience.

His first thought is _Fuck._

His second is _Stacker’s gonna have my balls for this – and not in the good way._

His third is _Jesus, Becket knows how to go at it._

Mako’s begging in Japanese, the usual calm of her voice splintered by pleasure, her hands clenched in sodden blond hair as her hips thrust into Becket’s mouth, reckless and raw. And Becket’s shoulders are set, his hands splayed on her thighs, surging to meet her thrusts without a care for the open shower door, the water that pours out over his shoulders and back, or the hard-on that juts up from between his thighs...

Herc remembers when it was _him_ kneeling between slender thighs, with hands scraping through his sweat-ridden hair – slimmer hands, older, with longer nails. Ange would lever herself into his mouth, too – desperate and unashamed – and Herc would grunt and work harder at getting her off, all his senses straining for the moment when she’d take flight and soar...

He swallows hard as Becket pauses to murmur something and Mako laughs. His mouth is hot and dry, his tongue thick, his dick pulsing as arousal kicks in.

Herc was Chuck’s father and Scott’s brother, and knows every thought that’s slid through both their heads about Mako – just like they knew every thought that slid through _his_ mind while they Drifted.

And yes, in spite of being Stacker Pentecost’s ‘bit between the sheets’ whenever they were in the same Shatterdome, Herc’s thought about Miss Mori’s voice sweet and silken in his ears, her body lithe and desperate under his hands and his mouth, her hands strong and sure on his old, weary flesh.

To say that Mako Mori is a magnet for the Hansen men is rather like saying that water is wet.

And Becket’s no hardship, either – no longer the golden boy that piloted with his brother, perhaps, but still a golden young man, with all the focus and drive and intensity of the young. And, Herc admits, an impressive dick. The kind that makes Herc want to see if he can take it all the way into his mouth and throat.

The noises from Mako are growing sharper, more urgent, and Becket’s grunting encouragement to her with every lick, every bite. They’re loud enough to be heard over the noise of the showers, loud enough that anyone walking in would be able to hear them, loud enough to drown out the thundering pulse of blood in Herc’s brain and balls as Mako’s head tilts back and her knuckles whiten in Becket’s hair and...

He stumbles out of the communal showers, aching, and hauls his clothes on with more speed than finesse.

The jog back to his quarters is more of a stumble, but it’s still early enough that no-one sees him, thank Christ.

His quarters are quiet. The shower is unoccupied. And there’s no-one to hear Herc grunt over the hot stream of water as he jerks himself off and thinks of Mako Mori and Raleigh Becket watching _him_.


End file.
